Are crowding on my view. The mental eye
Is aching from the long and ardent gaze
On these bright pictures of my memory.
I am in danger of idolatry;
It were not well to idolize the past,
And so forget the present. Blessings lie
All—all around me, but I vainly cast
A longing eye to things that were too bright to last.
II.
Sweet vine, that creep’st along the lattice work